Embers
by Clio
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort many would love to forget the whole Slytherin year of ’76. Florence Sinistra’s POV as she contemplates the death of a colleague. Very melancholic and in parts bordering R. Written long before OotP and HBP.


  
_Be warned. This is the saddest piece I have ever written, but I think also the most interesting one. It has nothing to do with my others. Not suited for kids because of drug abuse, death and the slight overtones of suicide._   
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**_Disclaimer_**   
_Mrs. Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter. I don't._   
_I only borrow some of her characters to play around with them._   
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**Embers**

"_I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday._"   
(Bertha Jorkins in GoF,   
Chapter 30-The Pensieve)   
  


One would have expected celebrations in the common rooms of Hogwarts when the news went around. But the mood in the school is remarkable subdued and pensive. Maybe the students are just tired and drained of all energy after the last weeks with all their fights, which had finally found their peak in the defeat of Lord Voldemort two days ago. 

I certainly am weary. And when Minerva, constantly dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief, came up to my rooms in the astronomy tower to announce his death to me, I have displayed no reaction. 

His passing was no surprise, and after two days on the deathbed I am sure it has been a salvation for Severus. Minerva, however, was scandalized at my lack of hysteria and grief. "How? How can you be so unfeeling, Florence? Your colleague has just died, and you, you don't even look up from your star charts. Does nothing ever move you?"   
  
"Would it be more appropriate if I would peruse Hogwarts, a History instead of my charts?" 

The Head of Gryffindor had looked at me in shocked silence. She even forgot to dab her red-rimmed eyes for a moment. Then she had turned and left in a huff. 

I am Florence Sinistra, cold and immovable. Like the stars I am watching. 

Unlike me the student body of Hogwarts, or what has remained of it after the battle at the castle, seems to mourn for the school's much dreaded potion master. Severus, who of course has been aware of his awful reputation, would find this highly amusing. I almost can see him arching an eyebrow and asking with a twitch in the corners of his mouth: "A hero's death it is called now? And that's all it took for those dunderheads to forget about years worth of detentions and surprise quizzes? Tsk, tsk, I fear we have raised a generation of weaklings, Florence." 

I smile down at my star charts. Indeed Severus Snape has died like a Gryffindor, who he despised so much, in an act of bravery and self-sacrifice. 

Towards the end of the battle the shielding spells, which had been stabilizing the old walls of the castle for centuries, were crumbling.   
_" It's too dangerous to go out there now! For anyone."_   
_"I'll do it."_   
_"No, Severus! I forbid."_   
Severus had calmly held Dumbledore's gaze. Whatever communication was passing between them in that moment, the Headmaster had lost the silent argument. Severus briefly looked over to me when he turned to go. I couldn't think of anything to say, and neither could he, apparently. I'm sure whoever will sing his praise when all this is over will not mention how his hands were shaking when he stepped out of the shelter of the walls and started to murmur the shielding incantation as he went. 

The Death Eaters' counterspells must have ripped through his body for minutes before he passed out. Nobody saw him fall when finally the surge of magic that was frying his organs became to much to bear. He bought Albus the necessary time to renew the old protective charms on the battlements of the castle. Only one wall had crumbled when finally the shields were back in place. The one Severus had been standing next to. 

Of course they pulled him out from the debris and carried him up to the infirmary afterwards. He had been unconscious, but still alive. Poppy, full of hope, but against better judgement, had tried all spells she knew on the his internal injuries. Yet he was a lost case, his organs slowly failing one after the other. 

Two days have passed and today, only an hour ago, Lupin had rushed up to my tower room to cheerfully announce that Severus was finally awake. I instantly knew it only could be a last rebellion in a lost struggle, a response to a too strong waking spell perhaps. And, as I have just learned from Minerva, I was right. 

I hate being right. 

Severus only has been lucid for about 15 minutes. The Headmaster alone has been with him during that time. It seems to be appropriate. I don't regret I wasn't there. He must have hated to die in the much despised schools infirmary under Poppy's care. 

Severus had been a regular client of the infirmary all his life. And it didn't always take Death Eaters and heroic battles to injure Severus. He managed fairly well so himself. Sev never was much of an athlete, and his will to take physical risks was much stronger than his body. He had an unhealthy tendency to get injured in what he thought was his service to the school or Dumbledore. In the 20 years he worked for him I recall Severus being badly bitten by a three-headed dog and a red-cap, getting his nose broken in a futile attempt to pull Peeves bodily out of an old armor, catching pneumonia while standing guard over the-devil-knows-what in a drafty corridor, and getting hit by a disarmament spell so hard he had a concussion. Not to count those numerous minor cuts and burns that came with his profession as a potions master. 

I still remember this winter, when Potter and Weasley had ventured into the forbidden forest. Heaven knows what they had wanted there at night, maybe just try to catch a glance at a unicorn foal. Severus had followed to keep an eye on them, probably planning to take points from them upon their return to the castle. Deep in the shadowy forest his foot had slipped in the snow and he had bent his ankle. With two ruptured tendons and clenched teeth he had followed the Gryffindors for one more hour before he came limping back to the castle.   
Poppy could mend his tendons easily, but the anger over his clumsiness had sent him into one of his foulest, most vindictive moods ever. For two days, until Poppy's healing potion had fully completed its work, he saw himself forced to hobble painfully slow through the hallways of Hogwarts with a cane, glaring at every creature that dared to move with less effort than himself. Argus Filch later claimed that Severus had hexed poor Mrs. Norris when she passed him. I'm not sure if it's true, but I certainly wouldn't put it past him. 

The brunt of his anger, however, was directed at Potter, who was oblivious of his teacher's nightly misadventure. Severus sat in my chambers in the big cushioned chair the next day, his thickly bandaged ankle propped up on a footstool, and over a glass of wine he ranted about the boy for hours. When he fantasized about getting Potter expelled, he gripped the cane so hard as if it was Potter's neck he was wringing.   
I told him that I found his behavior irrational and ridiculous, which resulted in him not talking to me for a week before he calmed down again. We both knew he'd never try to expel the boy or harm him in any other way. Potter was much to important for the cause. Dumbledore's cause. The cause that took such a heavy toll on all of us over the years. 

Severus has often been up here in my chambers in the astronomy tower. Even he, who lived in the dank dungeons of the school, needed a bit of warmth once in a while. Phyllis Sprout had speculated long ago that Severus was handing out so many detentions because he wanted some company in his lonely, dark dungeons. The most occupants of the staff room had dismissed this thought with laughter. Severus Snape - afraid of loneliness? Hilarious.   
I had not laughed with them. I knew Phyllis had come very close to the truth. Among my colleagues I probably knew Severus best, apart from Dumbledore, of course. 

We have been in the same year at school, both in Slytherin, and we thought we were in love with each other at a time what now seems ages ago, our 6th year at Hogwarts. Later we realized we were wrong. Our romantic involvement, if you want to call it such, didn't last two years. After school Severus and many other Slytherins in my year took the last step into a direction they were drifting in a long time already, and became Death Eaters. And I, desperately trying to put some distance between me and my fellow Slytherins and their violent attempts to create what they thought to be a better world, indulged into the study of the stars and their movements. In the end the longing for distance drove me to the lonely heights of Hogwarts' astronomy tower, where I was away from all the politics and the violence.   
Teaching astronomy in my private ivory tower, I completely severed my ties to the outside world and my old friends. Today I think it was the only way to prevent myself from falling into the pit of the Death Eater ideology and become a follower of Voldemort alongside with them.   
Severus couldn't and wouldn't follow me into my self-inflicted exile. And whatever I felt for him was not strong enough to pull him over the growing gap between us. So, when confronted with the choice between his lover, and the Slytherin camaraderie, he chose his Death Eater friends; a decision I was content with. It made matters less complicated. 

But then Severus came back to Hogwarts and into my life. The Headmaster offered him the position of the potions teacher after the downfall, the first downfall, of Voldemort. We now were teaching at the same school. Practically living under the same roof. The first meeting in the staff room was awkward. We both chose to ignore each other. It was easy since Hogwarts offered enough space to stay out of each others way. Severus ruled the dungeons and I had my residence in the heights of the tower. We only met at staff meetings and at mealtimes. No questions were asked, no references to the past or our mutual friends were made. We kept this arrangement all these years, until Voldemort rose again and the past returned to slap us into the faces. 

Severus quickly became the Head of Slytherin House. The youngest House Head ever in the History of Hogwarts. He wasn't even 30. I think his new position of power it made it easier for him to teach. It was no secret that he loathed his job, that was so much beneath his skills and his education as a Master of Potions. He had always wanted to do research, and not teach children how to heat a cauldron. But after being tried as a Death Eater no one but Albus Dumbledore would employ him. Saint Albus, deliverer of second chances and redeemer of troubled souls. Teaching Potions now was the closest Severus could get to his youthful dream of being an alchemist. 

His visits to my rooms began after Voldemort had risen the second time. Although Severus and I were hardly on speaking terms, I knew instantly that Severus had taken up his old spying duty again the night Voldemort came back. 

No one deemed me trustworthy enough to tell me what he was doing, but from my venture point at the highest platform of my tower, I couldn't help but notice him leaving and slinking back into the castle at nights. It distracted me immensely from my studies of the Andromeda nebulae.   
Not long, and he took up the habit of leaving the Hogwarts grounds by broom from my tower. I guess he was less likely to be spotted by curious students like Potter and company this way.   
At first it was coincidence that we met on the tower, but soon I found myself waiting for his return when I knew he was away on business for the Headmaster. Severus didn't appreciate me being up on platform upon his returns, but after all as the Astronomy teacher I had a right to be there. We both knew I only pretended to watch the stars in those nights.   
After a while Severus recognized my presence with a short nod before he went downstairs to report to Dumbledore. After two months of silent greetings I couldn't hold back any longer. I had to ask about my Slytherin classmates I hadn't seen in 18 years. If he met Antonius at the meetings, and if he had heard of the Lestranges? How the orphaned daughter of Marcia Wilkes was faring, and did Narcissa still look like she did in her prime? 

I think it did Severus good to talk about his old friends like they were normal people. When faced with Dumbledore he only reported the deeds of criminals. His stays in on the tower platform became longer. He took up the habit of coming to my rooms after his reports to the Headmaster or after Poppy had patched him up, and we talked the whole night, if he was in the mood. Most of the time he was not, and he spent a hours on my sofa staring into the fire and brooding. 

Somewhere along theses lines feelings, which lay like embers under more than a decade worth of ashes, were rekindled. Severus sought the comfort of physical contact, he sought the comfort of my bed and my body. We never talked about our renewed strange relationship, and I'm not sure if omniscient Dumbledore was aware of it.   
Once or twice Severus forced himself upon me very brutally. I closed my eyes and thought of the cruelty he must see and do during those raids he was participating in, and I didn't resist his violence. A relatively small sacrifice.   
At other times, when Severus came back from Dumbledore's office, he simply curled up in my armchair, refusing to be touched or talked to. Those were the hardest nights, and in the morning the Daily Prophet always reported bloodshed and atrocities. 

************* 

It has become dark over my musings. The school is oddly silent. It probably is a good time to bid my farewell to Severus now. Shrill scratching noises accompany me on my way through the endless, sparsely lit hallways of Hogwarts as my fingernails trail over the walls' rough stones. My fingers start to bleed. Severus has died to protect these very walls. It is only fair that I now paint them with the blood from my shredded fingertips, isn't it? 

Next to the Greta Hall is a small anteroom. The First Years are gathered here before they enter the Hall and their sorting ceremony begins. Today the room belongs to Severus alone. In the middle of it, with fire basins to both sides, he lies. And he doesn't flinch away like he usually does when I take him under close scrutiny.   


With forty-three he has finally grown into his large nose. It had looked strangely out of place in the smooth face of the gangly youngster I remembered him to be. His conk had been a constant source of more or less good natured mockery among his peers, and as soon as he could, he had tried to cultivate a beard to distract attention from his nose. The success had been doubtful at best, and he had given up this idea quickly. 

I have to smile at this memory. Now, as he lies there on the bier, with his hands folded over his stomach, his face looks dignified and haughty and well proportioned. For once his jaw is slack, and his features are void of a sneer, frown, or a vicious grin, which usually contorted his face.   
The deep lines around his eyes and mouth, that have made him look so bitter, seem to be gone in the soft firelight, but his graying temples are clearly visible. For three years now Severus has blamed Potter for each and every discolored hair he found in the mirror. Again I have to smile. The calm body in front of me is so very different from the yelling, spitting and passionate man I have known for the longest time of my life. His students will without doubt be surprised to see him like this at the funeral tomorrow. 

Instead of his usual black teaching garb they have dressed him in the formal robes he owned as the Head of House Slytherin. Surely he would not have appreciated Albus and Minerva digging through his wardrobe, which they must have done in order to find the stiff green dress robe he has disliked so much. At least the tie and the cloak with the Hogwarts coat-of-arms are still in his favorite color, black. Someone has stuck his willow-wood wand between his folded hands. Following wizard tradition it will be broken tomorrow before being burying with him. 

To his chest, next to the Paracelsus Medal for Outstanding Achievements in the Field of Alchemy, they have pinned the Order of Merlin, First Class with Oak Leaves, the highest medal wizarding Britain has to offer; given to him posthumous. I think if he could, his dead body would wear a self-satisfied smile, now that he finally has received the honor, which had been denied to him more than once in his life. But then again that would disturb the impressive look and the calm dignity of a powerful mage he radiates in death. And Severus, as hard to believe as it is, is way too vain to allow that. 

Wherever he is now, he surely is welcomed by Tiberius, Evan and Toni and the whole old Slytherin gang. And surely they are having a hell of a reunion party right now. 

We had been a close knit group in school. Before Voldemort, before the darkness, before Severus' betrayal. The astronomy tower was our hideout, like for me it still is today. Severus as the schools top Potions student had access to a laboratory and to various ingredients. And he and Antonius Avery, his partner in crime, used this privilege to create a never ceasing flow of mind altering potions. I only saw what they brought to our meetings on the tower, but I'm quite sure amongst themselves they were experimenting with stronger substances. We were lying there on our backs, take a potion, or maybe drink just a butterbeer and talk. Or, depending on the effect of Sev's concoctions, we maybe would just listen to music.   
We had taken to listening to Muggle bands, knowing this would anger every traditional wizard and especially our Slytherin parents. We listened to everything that was around at that time, until one day Felix Mulciber staggered to his feet and declared that as English pureblood wizards we should listen to English music. From that day on we mostly heard the Stones. Maybe even back then Felix had some of this raw magic power, which later made him Voldemort's Imperius specialist and much later landed him in Azkaban, where he has died. 

It was the early 70's and like the young Muggles at that time we fancied ourselves rebels. But how do you provoke in a world where people run around stark naked under shrill robes, where it's considered normal that men wear hip-length hair? And where the Headmaster of your school is proud to be viewed as a crackpot old fool? Enter Lord Voldemort, who promised secret knowledge, the use of banned magic and power and respect for everyone of pure wizard blood, especially angry young Slytherins. In the end most of us fell for his ideas and became firm believers of his ridiculous ideology. We ended up as terrorists. Or outcasts, in my case. And we all ended up dead.   
From the group, who held the nightly gatherings on the tower, all but me are in a better place now, either fallen in the first war, like Marcia Wilkes and Evan Rosier, rotted away in the deep dungeon cells of Azkaban, like Tiberius Travers and Felix, or fought and died in this last war, like Nacrcissa. Toni Avery, who all those years knew Severus secret and kept silent about it, had died from the Dark Lords own hand. Only Severus has died for the Light. But it makes no difference. His body in front of me is just as dead. 

I'm the last of the Slytherin class of '76. Suddenly it feels very lonely being the solitary Astronomy teacher in her tower. There is no one left I have to distance myself from anymore. 

At the funeral tomorrow Albus will talk about heroism and nobility. Maybe he will even admit that he has not so much lost a colleague but a son. And all those people will be very moved. It will be unbearable. 

I think will not be there, because like Severus I have never belonged with them. 

I have made up my mind. I will not be at the funeral. I have a class reunion to attend. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* 

_As I stand by your flame_   
_I get burned once again_   
_[...]_   
_In the silk sheet of time_   
_I will find peace of mind_   
_Love is a bed full of blues_   
_And I've got the blues for you_   
  
(I Got the Blues, M. Jagger/K. Richards)   



End file.
